


Guillotine

by melancholymango



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Parent John Winchester, Emotionally Repressed Dean, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Dean Winchester, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, also self-loathing and unrealistic expectations for himself, hes got anxiety, look at him, set at some point after cas saves dean, u fucked up a perfectly good dean thats what u did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-15 22:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11815689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholymango/pseuds/melancholymango
Summary: Dean's been fighting a war within himself, between his thoughts and his emotions, the man he's meant to be and the man he's turned into. He doesn't even recognize himself anymore, doesn't recognize the foreign feelings and longing in his chest whenever he thinks about things he could never have. He's living two separate lives—one for himself, and one for his late father. The lines between those two Deans have always been blurry, but they grow more so every time they look at Cas.





	Guillotine

**Author's Note:**

> Wassup dudes?? ? ? This is dedicated to a lovely lil pal named Anya as thanks for supporting me. It was meant to be a 2k drabble, but then my late destiel fangirl self came back from the grave and possessed my body to write double that length instead. Also I tagged it as canon divergent because I haven't watched supernatural in a while and I'm still not entirely caught up so I don't know how accurate this is to canon but i just!!!!!!! love dean!!!!!!

Dean crept toward the door, his breath wisping past his lips quietly in a rush of mint, keys clutched tightly in his fist. He was trying to be quiet, tiptoeing across the floor in a desperate effort to keep from waking Sam. He was almost there, almost home-free, just a few feet away from the door that would lead him out into the night unnoticed… when a long sigh filled the room.

“Going somewhere?” Sam asked, sitting up in his bed. There was something about the way he looked at Dean that made it blatantly clear he’d never been asleep to begin with, had probably been waiting on his brother to officially announce where he was going. Dean only felt worse then, kicking himself as he stared longingly toward the door. He couldn’t look Sam in the eye right now.

“Yeah, figure I’ll head out for the night.”

“That’s the fifth time this week.” Sam observed, trying to sound casual about it. Dean grit his teeth, forcing a nervous laugh. If his brother wasn’t going to be blunt about addressing the problem, then he certainly wasn’t about to dwell on the issue.

“Yeah.” Dean spoke softly, turning to face same and sheepishly backing toward the door. Sam just stared blankly back at him, looking so disappointed that it seemed to tear into Dean. Finally, just as he wrapped his fingers around the door knob and went to turn it, Sam huffed in obvious annoyance.

“Dean, we’re only five days _into_ the week.” Sam growled, raking his hands through his hair. He wasn’t even trying to hide how stressed out his brother’s behavior was making him. Dean worried his bottom lip between his teeth, guilt eating away at him so steadily he was unsure whether there’d be anything left. “You can’t keep this up, it’s too much even for you.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked innocently, batting his eyelashes and silently pleading with his brother to just let it go. He didn’t want to have this conversation, not now and not ever. Yet Sam pressed on, he pressed on because he _cared_. He even got to his feet and crossed the room, standing a foot away from Dean and meeting his gaze.

“Talk to me.” Sam begged, reaching out to place a hand on his older brother’s shoulder. Dean all but flinched away from the embrace, blinking rapidly in an effort to ignore the way his eyes had begun to sting.

He turned around hurriedly, swinging open the door. He didn’t look back after that, but he could hear the quiet sigh that left Sam’s lips as he stepped outside. “Bottling your feelings up is gonna get you killed someday, in a way you won’t be able to come back from.”

“Conveniently enough, sometimes I feel like it already has.” Dean chuckled lowly, gripping the door handle harsher. “See you later, Sammy.”

\--

The local bar was easy enough to find, considering it was the liveliest place in the small town at such a late hour. Dean was drawn to it like a moth to a flame, the bright lights and the sound of bass-boosted country music. It wasn’t all that unlike many bars he’d been to since his teenage years, familiar overdone decorations and sassy waitresses, plaid shirts lining each of the bar stools with all the local alcoholics sat atop them. Dean figured he’d be one of those people, if he had a home to call his own. As it was, he never stopped at the same bar twice, so no one ever came to know him as anything, much less an alcoholic.

He was permanently the mysterious stranger that caught attention, always fascinating despite the fact he wasn’t all that different from those locals that women viewed as pathetic or as something to be pitied. When he looked in the mirror, that’s who he saw. A broken shell of a man, leaning on anything he could to take the support off of his own tired knees. God, was he ever tired.

He’d spent the past year or so in Hell after all, that wasn’t exactly everyone’s dream vacation destination. It was definitely a life-changing experience, but not one Dean was about to read about on a brochure and recommend to friends.

The mind games that he’d been put through, the things he’d had done to him, the things he’d willingly done to others just to catch his own breath when the pain got to be too much. He didn’t even recognize himself anymore, wasn’t sure who he was or what he stood for. He’d pulled out every distraction in the book, all of the terrible coping mechanisms that had gotten him this far in life, but nothing worked.

Nothing made it so he was able to look at himself as the person he was again, rather than the monster he’d become mere months ago. It didn’t feel like months in Hell, it felt like lifetimes. He'd spent so long being someone else, he was struggling to recall who he'd been before it all. What was his normal now? Did he even have one? He wasn't even meant to be alive, his mere being here was a direct violation of the laws of nature.

He ended up downing a few shots of the strongest thing he could find, casting a knowing look in the direction of his waitress of choice, and then waiting around for her until the time she’d whispered to him while sliding his drink across his table. And then they’d stumbled out to his car, she’d wrapped her legs around his hips and he’d pressed her into the side of Baby’s exterior, hands gripping her ass hotly. He didn’t even catch her name, didn’t care to know.

Eventually they made it back to her place, stumbling across the floor with their mouths clashing together in a hungry, desperate kiss. Hands spanning across any exposed skin they could find, clothes thrown haphazardly over the floor, drunken slurs of praise and encouragement gasped between each kiss. They made it pretty far into things, before Dean’s thoughts started to come back from the haze just enough for him to recognize why he hadn’t wanted to know her name.

He’d never been a particularly committed lover, but until now he’d always been a caring one, had been careful to catch every name and show every partner a good time. Not now though, a name would ruin the illusion, the selfish fantasy he was trying to live out in the heat of the moment, without her knowledge or her approval. His head reeled and he pulled away from the kiss, guilt seeping through him as her mouth immediately moved to kiss at his collarbones.

“Hey, can we take a breather for a sec?” He managed, throat feeling like it was closing up around the lump that had formed. “I just need to run to the toilet, I’ll be right back. Maybe undress while I’m gone and we’ll pick up where we left off?”

“Okay.” She agreed reluctantly, scooting backward into the couch cushions and making a show of undoing her bra. Dean turned away before he could get a glimpse of what was underneath, his hands balling into fists as he looked for the washroom. He didn’t dare look back and ask her where it is, didn’t want to even look at her now that he’d realized what he’d been projecting onto the poor girl.

He all but tripped into the bathroom when he finally spotted it, rushing so fast his vision seemed to swim behind his eyes. He closed the door hurriedly behind himself, leaning over the sink and staring deep into his own eyes.

What the hell was wrong with him?! She was gorgeous, she was everything he would have needed to distract himself from his own miserable life just a year ago, but one trip to Hell and everything inside of him had been changed.

Actually, more accurately, the problem at hand had occurred on the trip _out_ of Hell. As much as it pained him to admit, he couldn't really ignore the problem for any longer when it was growing so overwhelming. Hell had been terrible, but he'd fought his way through it, had held onto himself when he was faced with evil because he was _used_ to facing evil. What he _wasn't_ used to facing was the opposite, the unfamiliar flutter of butterflies in his chest, the taunting idea of something better for himself.

He turned to where the t-shirt hung loosely from his shoulders, stretched beyond repair by grabby hands. He rolled up the sleeve, exhaling slowly as he placed his own hand over the mark formed on his upper arm. Castiel’s handprint. Cas.

“What’s wrong with me?!” He hissed under his breath, hating himself for the longing already building up in his chest. He didn’t dare long, didn’t dare hope, didn’t dare dream of a reality where him and Cas might have the potential to be together. He didn’t deserve the temporary relief of filling the Castiel-sized hole in his heart. The strange connection between them that had steadily developed into something more was bordering on all-consuming now, but he didn't know how else to fight it. He'd tried everything.

For a long time, he refused to even acknowledge it. He’d spent enough time in small towns to know what people thought of guys being with other guys, had spent his entire life telling himself that while he wouldn’t become one of those hateful bigots, he wouldn’t allow himself to be on the other side of things either. He was straight. Straight enough to pass anyway.

Their bond after Castiel had raised him from perdition had been something unlike anything Dean had ever known, had made them feel close even when they were apart. Sometimes, he had to wonder if Cas could read his thoughts, if the angel already knew exactly how Dean felt and was just toying with him now.

So eventually Dean had admitted it to himself. It hurt him so deeply that he went off on a car cruise alone for over a week and left Sam worried sick at some random motel because Dean couldn’t bear to look at him with the newfound knowledge at the forefront of his mind. He was gay. Or bi, he supposed. It didn’t really matter what the label was, not when he could practically hear the words his father would say if he ever found out.

John Winchester was a lot of things, had done many things right and just as many wrong, but he’d always had a very set vision of who Dean should be. Dean had found it inspiring when he was younger, was amazed that his father believed in his potential so much. Now Dean found it constricting, like hands wrapped around his neck and squeezing, trying to mold him into something he wasn’t even now that his father was long gone.

Dean gasped, struggling to catch his breath.

He all but ran out of the bathroom after that, not even risking a glance in the direction of the beautiful naked woman splayed across the couch. “Something came up, I need to go.”

“What?” She squawked indignantly, clearly shocked by the turnaround. Dean continued toward the door, snatching his shirt and jacket off the floor along the way. She came back to her senses just enough to yell after him as he opened the front door. “Hey! Talk to me! Did I do something wrong?!”

Dean knew that he shouldn’t be driving, but he hauled ass over to the liquor store all the same and bought everything he could afford with the cash he had on him. Then he piled back into the car with his bags full of alcohol, and began to drive until the road turned to dirt and the houses around him spanned out into fields, and then he finally pulled over. He stumbled out into the middle of a shaded meadow, collapsing beneath a towering tree.

He tugged a bottle out of the paper bag to his right, not even glancing at the label before unscrewing the cap and tipping it back. He drank until his thoughts and his feelings stopped feeling like countering sides in a war against his own mind. He drank until he was left pleasantly buzzed, head foggy and limbs heavy. He was on the brink of passing out, the closest to bliss he’s felt since he was a child, and only then does he finally allow himself to embrace the longing still clawing at his heart.

He thought of Castiel. He thought of the angel’s warm understanding eyes, his tousled hair, his terribly endearing outfit choices. He thought of the way it would feel to allow himself to feel, to hold Cas near and never let go, to kiss the other man and fall asleep in his arms each night. He even allowed himself to think of worse things, sexual things, things that probably had John Winchester rolling in his damn grave.

Dean thought of what he’d do if Cas were here right now, of how he’d give anything to feel this open with his emotions sober, to be able to tell someone about the suffering he was going through that hurt him like a physical ache.

Then, there was a sound in the bushes behind Dean’s head. He jumped to his feet, struggling to stay upright as he gripped the tree for support. He panted, peering into the darkness and praying one of his many enemies hadn’t caught up with him now of all times.

“Is someone there?” He called out, grimacing at the tremble in his own voice. That wasn’t very intimidating, if someone was there they wouldn’t be fearing him in the slightest right about now, he couldn’t have that. “Show yourself! I’ll kick your ass!”

“Dean.” The voice was instantly familiar, as was the pair of blue eyes that glinted back at him as Castiel stepped out into the moonlight.

“Cas?” Dean whispered, shock evident in his voice. He took a stumbling step backward, losing his own support device and nearly falling on his ass, only for familiar hands to dart out and steady his body. He gulped. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.” Cas answered, looking puzzled as he raked his eyes over Dean’s messy appearance. “You prayed for me. You seemed pretty desperate, I assumed it was an emergency. What do you need?”

“I don’t need anything, halo boy!” Dean blurted hurriedly, gesturing wildly through the air in an effort to dismiss the concerned friend. He’d totally forgotten that Cas could hear his prayers when he thought of him. He had to wonder if he heard specifics or just knew that Dean was thinking of him, longing for his presence. Dean could only hope that the angel was still too oblivious to human emotion to realize how bad this looked. “I’m fine. I’m better than fine. This is the best I’ve been in weeks!”

“Where’s Sam?” Cas asked bluntly, looking around with worry evident in his gaze.

“Back at the hotel, he’s not a partier like I am.” Dean dismissed, trying in vain to sound casual and brush off the obvious state he was in. The blank stare he received in response said all that it needed to, and he sighed in defeat. He leaned back against the tree from before, tears pricking at his eyes. “I don’t want him to see me like this.”

“Why not?”

“He’s my little brother, he looks up to me. What kind of role model does shit like this?” Dean snorted, gesturing to the whole of himself. When Castiel simply looked at him in confusion, he specified even further despite the sour taste it left on his tongue. “I don’t want to fuck him up like I have myself.”

“Dean,” Cas spoke softly, concern painting his features as he stepped closer. He placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, painstakingly close to where he’d branded Dean’s skin with the mark of that same hand. “you’re not... fucked up.”

“Look at me, Cas! It doesn’t get anymore fucked up than this!” Dean shouted, burying his face into his hands. “I’m a _monster_. You should have left me where you found me, that's where I deserve to be.”

“You’re not a monster.” Cas insisted, tugging his hands away from his face. Dean still refused to look him in the eye, instead studying the ground beneath his feet. “You’re the righteous man, you’re-”

“Stop saying shit like that!” Dean shouted venomously, hands curling into fists. He couldn’t bear to hear that anymore, to acknowledge how highly Cas thought of him while being so blatantly aware that he’d never live up to the legacy of it all. He was a walking disappointment to all and he was tired of it.  “I sin as if it’s second nature to me! I’ve done terrible things, things I can’t even bear to repeat. Everyone that’s ever taken a chance on me has ended up falling on their asses and paying for it. There’s blood on my hands that I can’t begin to scrub off. I’ve caused more damage than I could ever _dream_ of fixing.”

“I-”

“I ruin _everything_ I touch.” Dean spat, beginning to tremble. Cas stepped closer and began to rub his hand over Dean’s skin, a comforting soothing gesture but not at all enough. Dean leaned into the touch, cursing himself all the while whenever thoughts would poison his mind of how he wanted so much more than this.

He gave a choked sob finally, collapsing into Castiel’s arms and burying his face into the crook of the man’s neck. He cried brokenly, crumpling into the angel’s chest. “And I’m so fucking selfish because, even knowing that... I still want _you_. I still want my grubby hands all over you, even knowing the consequences, even knowing that it’s wrong. I’m going to ruin you, it’s already started. I’m going to leech the life out of you and change you until you can’t even recognize the face in the mirror, and then I’ll leave like I always do. I’ll run because I don’t know how to stay. No one ever taught me how.”

“How do you know you aren’t changing me for the better?” Cas whispered quietly in response, bringing a hand up to card it through Dean’s hair absentmindedly. Dean shook his head, a quiet whimper following the sobs that had finally stopped.

“You’re an _angel_ , Cas, it doesn’t get any better than that.”

“Given the choice between loyalty and freedom, I know what I’d choose.” The word choice was cryptic as always with Cas, but the tone said it all. Dean realized what he was implying, that he really thought all that he’d lost was worth what he’d gained here with the Winchesters. It made no sense.

Cas pushed him back a step, hands staying gripping his shoulders and eyes narrowed. He took a deep breath, moving closer again until their noses brushed. Dean’s mind short-circuited, wondering yet again whether Cas had the capability to read his thoughts. “You can’t make that decision for me, so stop assuming.”

“We shouldn’t-” Dean started to say, cut off by the feeling of lips crashing against his own. The kiss didn’t have the same urgency that many of his recent ones had, didn’t have the blatant rush or the sexual intent behind it, it was exploratory more than anything else. It was gentle and curious, testing the waters and giving Dean ample opportunity to back away. And he didn’t want to, not at all, he wanted to stand there allowing Cas to lick into his mouth and jumble his thoughts for the rest of his goddamn life.

He couldn’t though, not with all the guilt and the shame that had been ingrained into his mind for years. He pulled away suddenly, blinking away tears. He felt so torn, between what he wanted and what the world wanted from him. He wasn’t gay. He was Dean Winchester, a known womanizer, an emotionless bachelor until death takes him. He was on this Earth to kick some ass and have fun, not… fall in love.

He was selfish in more ways than one, but to expect another person to commit to him in any capacity, when he was such a miserably unreliable broken person… that was beyond him. He looked up and registered the hurt in Castiel’s eyes, his chest feeling so much heavier as he started to cry again. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, you’ve nothing to be sorry for.” Cas grunted, moving closer while Dean backed away. He felt so guilty, so ashamed of how badly he wanted this, wanted to forget everything he’d ever known and everything the universe expected of him. He wanted this feeling, would spend the rest of his life chasing after it again if he let it go now.

Cas led him backward until he was pressed into the trunk of the tree from before, then followed closer still until their bodies were pressed together. Dean’s eyes widened, an outright blush spreading across his face as he felt the arousal pressed against his thigh. “Be honest with me. Be honest with yourself, too. Do you want this?”

“I shouldn’t.”

“But do you?” Cas prompted, gripping Dean’s jaw and leaning closer still until their lips just barely brushed. Dean leaned up into the fleeting touch, flushed deeply all the while but unable to not ask for more when it was being dangled in front of his face like this. Castiel kissed him with purpose then, the feeling of their lips working together bruising in its passion. Dean gasped and Cas licked into his mouth, tentative but persistent in a way that made Dean’s knees feel even more like jelly beneath him.

Apparently that’d been the goal all along though, considering the effortless way Cas slotted a thigh between Dean’s naturally widespread legs.

“Yes!” He cried out in belated answer, throwing his head back and effectively breaking off the kiss. His hips shot forward on their own accord after that, rutting against the other man’s thigh. He buried his face into Castiel’s shoulder, the tips of his ears painted pink with shame. “Promise me something?”

“Anything.” Cas assured him in a growl, nipping at his earlobe. Dean clutched the front of his shirt, slowly working to undo the buttons with fumbling fingers.

“When I wake up tomorrow, promise me you’ll be gone.” Dean whispered into the collar of Castiel’s shirt, muffling the words just enough that he didn’t have to hear them outright, didn’t have to acknowledge what he was saying. “Leave me before I can leave you.”

“No.” Castiel answered easily, surprisingly understanding what Dean had said in an instant. He shoved Dean back particularly harsh, looking borderline angry at the suggestion. “I’m _staying_.”

“I don’t deserve you.” Dean panted raggedly, eyes growing watery again. He looked down between them, hands falling to grip slim hips and pull them closer still to contrast his words, fingers threading through Cas’s belt loops to hold him there. “I don’t deserve to be here.”

“Yes you do.” The words were so deadpan, so factual, that Dean almost allowed himself to believe them just like that. It was clear that Cas did, that there wasn’t a fraction of hesitation behind them. “That decision wasn’t yours to make, it was mine. I saved you because I saw something special in you, something that will never fade. I don’t care how you see yourself, I’m not letting you change my opinion of you. My purity was a lie, I never had the option to be anything else, of course I’d fall into the default. You’ve seen everything this world has to offer, you’ve been through the worst of it, and yet you still fight for what’s right. You’re just as pure as I am.”

“You promise you’ll stay?” Dean asked uncertainly, looking up at Cas through his lashes.

“I swear it, you have my word.” Cas grunted, head falling to Dean’s neck again. He picked back up where he’d left off at, no doubt claiming Dean’s skin with even more angelic marks. Dean could already see himself standing in front of the mirror and grazing his fingers across him, finding comfort in the fact that someone so holy had seen something worthy in him. “I will _never_ give up on you.”

“You should.” Dean gasped, shoving the trenchcoat from the other man’s shoulders as teeth and tongue worked over his neck at a punishing pace. He shoved Cas away, overwhelmed by the attention he was receiving. He blinked dazedly at the angel, a smile spreading across his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m going to let you down.”

“Not possible, you impress me endlessly with everything you do.” Castiel insisted, cupping his face between his hands. One stayed there, appreciatively stroking a thumb across Dean’s cheekbone and gathering the tears that had fallen there. The other hand traveled while Cas continued speaking, shoving Dean’s shirt up around his neck.

Cas smiled softly, eyes raking over Dean's chest. “You’ve been making adult decisions since the moment you could talk. You’ve been stuck between a rock and a hard place for as long as you can remember. Yet you keep fighting. You must be exhausted by now, don’t beat yourself up that it’s starting to show, be proud that you made it this far. You’re gonna go further, too. You just need help now. It’s okay to need help.”

“I’m weak.” Dean gasped, Castiel’s hand trailing down his stomach slowly and appreciatively, as if touching another for the first time. Dean supposed he was. That thought did little to bring him back down to Earth, did absolutely nothing to stomp down the _want_ in his chest.

“You’re human.” Cas corrected, leaning over Dean to rest their foreheads together. He brought their lips together in a chaste kiss, fleeting and sweet, innocently pure in a way Dean hadn’t experienced in years. Loving. “God’s greatest accomplishment.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thx for reading, here are my social medias, only YOU can directly contribute to my praise kink and thus keep me alive in this cruel, harsh praiseless world. 
> 
> twitter - https://twitter.com/MelancholyMango  
> this is where i am at my messiest, but basically you can expect to see very serious rants about zootopia and a lot of photos of my pets (wiener dogs, a baby kitten, a HEDGEHOG NAMED SHIRO??? r u in or what)
> 
> tumblr - melancholymango.tumblr.com  
> this is where i reblog ten thousand photos of klance and answer the questions u guys ask me about my writing, also a good place to make requests about things you wanna see from me in the future.
> 
> wattpad - https://www.wattpad.com/user/MelancholyMango  
> this is where i post my real-person fanfiction! i've written troyler way back when, but right now I'm mostly just posting phan. (i may also eventually post original fiction here, but right now my ass belongs to youtubers)


End file.
